


Through A Glass Darkly

by blondsak, seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (both of them do), Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Peter Parker, Comic Book Science, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Multiverse Shenanigans, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Protective Tony Stark, alt title - Peter Parker: 2 Fast 2 Furious, defenestrating canon as per usual, it’ll make sense when you read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29252028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: “So am I dead? In this universe, I mean.”Tony glances up sharply. “What? No.”Peter nods, biting the inside of his cheek as he tries to calm his quaking nerves. “Okay… so if I’m not dead, then where am I? And why are you all treating me like I’m some sort of criminal?”“Because here Spider-Man is a criminal,” Tony replies, unflinching. “And not just any common thief. A murderer.”Peter barks out a laugh, the corner of his lip turning up. “Yeah, right.” But the smile falters when Tony’s expression doesn’t change. “No way, nowaywould I ever–”“Oh, there’s a way, kid. Believe me,” Tony interjects. “The other you,myPeter? He bought himself a one-way ticket to the Raft. Been there for months.”“No way,” Peter repeats with a croak. He looks down at his cuffed hands, feeling numb. “It’s a mistake. It has to be.”Tony huffs out a humorless guffaw, and Peter lifts his head, wary but curious.“Funny,” Tony says, deadly serious, “that’s what he said, too.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 270
Kudos: 383





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forensicleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forensicleaf/gifts).



> Happy birthday to fleaf, a very kind and very dear friend! We hope you enjoy this foray into the multiverse <3

“Peter, you’re gonna be late!”

“I’m coming,” Peter calls out, shoving his head through the hole of his sweater before pausing— glancing around his room.

 _What am I forgetting? What am I forgetting?_ he muses to himself, the lightbulb going off as he grabs his backpack.

“May!” Peter yells, rifling through the various sheets of loose leaf paper, “Do you see my chem homework anywhere?”

“It’s on the counter!” May yells back, Peter stopping for a second before the memory of leaving it there hits— slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he walks out of his bedroom.

“If you kept everything in the trapper keeper I got you, you wouldn’t lose your homework,” May teases, Peter making a face as he walks over to the kitchen counter and grabs the missing homework.

“No one calls them that anymore,” Peter says, May laughing as she throws him a banana. Peter catches it with ease, grinning at her as he shoves it and the homework into his backpack. 

“I’m surprised they give you paper homework still to begin with,” May says, waving her hand around as she leans against the counter and takes a sip of her coffee. Peter peruses the bowl of specially-made granola bars Tony recently sent over as she continues, “You’d think everything would be terabytes or digits or WIFI signals.”

“That’s not how any of that works,” Peter says with a laugh, going for the peanut butter and strawberry jam flavor he has as he rips it open and takes a bite, humming in contentment as May laughs.

“What won’t work is you being late for the third time in a row this week. You and that Johnny Storm stay out way too late.”

“No we don’t,” Peter says with his mouth full, May raising an eyebrow as Peter quickly chews then swallows his food. “Besides, Johnny doesn’t have a curfew.”

“Johnny _also_ doesn’t have an 8am home room. Something _you_ will be late for if you don’t skedaddle,” May says with a fond smile, Peter smiling again as he walks over to her.

She gives him a quick squeeze, Peter kissing her on the cheek before May sends him off on his way.

“Don’t forget to call Tony and tell him about AcaDec this weekend.”

“I won’t!” Peter calls out as he walks over the door, shoving another bite of the granola bar into his face and closing the door behind him.  
  


* * *

“Dude, you gotta invite Johnny to join our Beast Player team,” Ned whispers, Peter glaring at him before quickly glancing around the busy Midtown cafeteria. He shouldn’t be surprised that no one is looking in their direction but it’s still a concern all the same, Peter looking back at Ned as he says, “Dude.”

“Literally no one would guess what Johnny you’re talking about,” MJ deadpans, a credit to how long he’s known her and how good of friends they are that Peter can hear the hint of teasing in it. He glances over the table to see her head in a book, just barely hiding a smile that makes Peter’s stomach turn into knots as she continues, “You’re the literal worst person to keep a secret, you know that right?”

“What secret?” another voice says, MJ looking up and actually smiling as she puts her book down just as Gwen Stacy puts her tray down, Peter feeling like a deer in headlights as yet another voice chimes in, sitting next to Peter.

“The secret of Pete’s massive crush on MJ? Not much of a secret, if you ask me,” Harry Obsorn says with a wink, Peter feeling as if he could literally die on the spot as he coughs. 

He tacitly avoids MJ’s eyes, forcing a smile and looking at Harry as he says, “Hey man, I thought your dad was taking you out of town.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shrugging as he rests his folded arms over the lunch table. “Put my foot down and said that if he’s gonna try and enroll me in a regular school to be ‘one with the people’,” he says, pantomiming his fingers, “then maybe I should _actually_ attend school like one of the people.”

“Trip got cancelled?” Gwen asks, Harry scoffing as he leans back.

“Damn Stacy, why you gotta call me out like that?” Harry replies, the two of them devolving in the kind of banter that Peter’s gotten used to since they transferred in at the beginning of the school year.

He finally looks back to MJ who chews her lip, looking at him with a smirk on her face before looking elsewhere. Ned not so subtly nudges him in the side, the imploring look on his face yet another reminder that if his crush is that obvious to Harry and Gwen-- relative newcomers to Midtown-- that it’s probably obvious as hell to anyone else that’s known them for any length of time. 

The rest of lunch passes comfortably, the bell bringing about another good-natured complaint from Harry about their time not being their own as they clear the table.

He’s not surprised to find himself walking in-step with MJ as they move to throw away their trash, Ned winking at Peter as he runs to catch up with Harry and Gwen as MJ clears her throat.

“So.”

“So,” Peter says, feeling his cheeks flush, “That was awkward.”

“Yeah,” MJ says with a laugh, throwing her recycling away and the rest of her trash in the correct bins, “But uh, he’s right you know.”

Peter freezes, forcing himself to look at her as MJ looks back at him awkwardly, only to smile a bit more genuinely as she says, “It’s not really that much of a secret.”

Peter clears his throat, going to say something when the next warning bell rings. 

“I gotta get to Calc,” MJ says, pointing her thumb in the opposite direction. 

“Yeah, yeah I got uh, AP Lit.” 

“Nice.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly before bringing his hand down as he says, “May says it’ll be a good idea when I get to college. Test out or something.”

“Or something,” MJ says with a smile, Peter’s stomach turning to butterflies as MJ wrings her hands together.

“MJ, I--”

“I’m good at keeping secrets, you know,” MJ says, Peter pausing as he stares at her. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says, thinking back to when she essentially revealed she knew his secret back in sophomore year, the spark that started their friendship and transformed him and Ned’s duo into a trio. 

“But I’m okay,” MJ says carefully, “if you didn’t want certain things to stay secret anymore.”

Peter considers himself to be smart, most days-- even if Tony seemed to argue against it anytime he had to get stitched up for whatever injuries he collected while he was on patrol-- but it takes him a beat too long to understand what she’s saying as she stares at him, making the decision to lean forward and kiss him right there in the Midtown cafeteria, feet away from the trash can.

Peter’s surprised, blinking a few times as she stares at him. 

“You kissed me?”

“He learns,” she says quietly, Peter huffing out a laugh before he stares at her.

“I really like you,” he says, the warning bell ringing out as a reminder that they’re still in the middle of the school day and the world hasn’t stopped to reckon with the monumental experience Peter is having as MJ smiles. 

“I really like you too.”

“ _FINALLY_ ,” three voices ring out, both Peter and MJ looking over to their friends, Gwen with her warm wrapped around Ned’s neck and Harry raising his hands in appreciation.

“Hell yeah, pay _up_ ,” Harry says as he brings his hand down, Gwen rolling her eyes as MJ laughs. 

As their friends joke, Peter sneaks a glance back to MJ just to see her smiling at him-- a warmth blossoming in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach settling as he smiles right back at her. 

* * *

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.”

“Put him through, Karen,” Peter says as glides through the air, flinging out another web. “Hey Tony.”

“Hey kid,” Tony’s voice comes through the comm. “How’s patrol?”

Peter lets out a long sigh. “Quiet.” 

“You sound disappointed,” Tony says disapprovingly.

“Well yeah,” Peter admits. “Not that I _want_ Queens to have a lot of crime, but it’d be nice for things not to be so boring too, you know? Ever since I stopped that robbery at the Gas & Go last week it’s been crickets.”

This time it’s Tony’s turn to sigh. “Well, now you’ve jinxed it. Time to get my suit on. Might as well be prepared for when the alert comes through that you’ve, hell, I don’t know. Passed out mid-swing and landed in a dumpster, or something.”

Peter rolls his eyes, before swinging down into traffic just for the fun of it. “I’m gonna be fine, Tony. Like I said, it’s a boring patrol. Anyway, why’d you call? What’s up?”

“Oh not much,” Tony replies with a deceptively mild tone, Peter’s eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Just thought I’d see if the rumor that Michelle is finally your girlfriend is true.”

“What the—how do you know about that?” Peter asks, incredulous. “I haven’t even told _May_ yet.”

“Ah yes, but see, you gave Karen the play-by-play earlier tonight,” Tony explains. “You should know by now that her and Fri are nothing but a bunch of gossipy old biddies.”

“Seriously, K?” Peter mutters, rounding the corner of a building, heading home. Might as well get an early start on his homework since nothing’s happening.

“Sorry, Peter,” Karen cheerfully pipes up. “I was just so excited for you, that I had to share.” Before he can reply she continues, “I am inclined at this moment to remind you that May wanted you to tell Mister Stark about your Acadec tournament this weekend.”

“Nice deflection, Kare,” Tony says appreciatively. “Acadec, Pete? What time?”

“You and I are gonna have a talk later about personal boundaries,” Peter sternly tells Karen. To Tony he says, “Yeah, it’s on Saturday, Cardozo High. Starts at ten.”

“I’ll be there,” Tony says. “We can go out for pizza afterward, the whole team. My treat.”

Peter rolls his eyes again. “You’re only offering that because you know Johnny won’t be there.”

“Your point?” Tony deadpans. Grumbling, he adds, “How you can stand to hang out with that flying fire hazard, I have no idea.”

“He’s a really good guy, underneath all the swagger,” Peter says. “Besides, it’s not his fault his brother-in-law is smarter than you.”

“Watch it, underoos,” Tony says, Peter laughing. “And Reed Richards is _not_ smarter than me. Only one person has that honor, and his name is Colonel James Rupert Rhodes.”

“What about Pepper?” 

“Ah, see, Pep has more _common sense_ than me, which is slightly different.”

Peter hums an agreement. 

“So what’s on the docket for the rest of the night? You staying out til curfew?”

“Nah,” Peter replies. “On my way back to the apartment now. Patrol is a wash, plus I have a huge econ project due Friday, and–”

Something suddenly tugs at Peter’s navel. He whips his head down but doesn’t see anything, only to look around for a threat but finding none. 

“Kid? You still there?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah I’m here,” he says, still looking around even as he keeps swinging. “Just thought I felt a–”

Another tug, more insistent, this time accompanied with a weird tingling sensation. Peter glances down again, eyes going wide and breath going short when he sees a swirling white glimmer around his belly, spreading out toward his chest and legs as though trying to wrap around him. 

“Pete? Peter?”

“Tony, something’s happening, I–”

The glimmer reaches his neck and crawls up over his face, Peter crying out as a blinding light assaults his vision.

“Peter, what’s happening? Pete? Listen, I’m on my way, I’m–”

Whatever else Tony was about to say, Peter never hears it, as just then the glimmer covers his ears, completely enveloping him. Out of instinct he lets go of the webs to clutch at his head, only for the thought he’s now falling toward the unforgiving pavement causing his whole body to jerk with panic.

But if he was actually falling, he never hits the ground, as just then there’s one more final tug, this time on his entire body and with a loud popping noise. The effect of it all is more intense than anything Peter’s ever felt before, and way too much for his heightened senses to handle.

Just when he feels he can’t take any more, the bright light suddenly goes black, and Peter is lost to the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ouchies,” Peter says as he stares up at the sky, his head pounding and his body buzzing with residual adrenaline. 

Immediately he feels like something is wrong, his spider sense ringing as he sits up.

“What the hell?” Peter thinks to himself, looking around the city-- feeling like he needs to blink a few times even if the lenses of his mask are made of state-of-the-art technology and can’t possibly be wrong.

But it has to be.

Peter stands, his sense still buzzing in the background-- at a total loss for what he’s looking at.

He’s in New York but it’s… not New York. Some buildings are half-destroyed and others are dark, looking down the street and seeing people mill about but piles and piles of trash-- something bugging him in the back of his mind as his eyes dart back and forth.

“Karen? What’s going on?” he asks, only for his stomach to start churning when she doesn’t reply. 

“Karen?” Peter asks again, but already feeling that she’s no longer there with him-- wondering if the shimmery thing and the pulling in his gut had somehow messed with his suit. 

But there’s something more going on, something else that Peter can’t quite put his finger on-- a panic starting to build in his chest as his mind goes back to the one person who’s always waiting for him.

Peter leaps off the building-- glad that he can recognize most of them, even the half-standing ones--as he makes his way back to Queens, eyes actively scanning the city while his mind focuses on May. 

He should probably call Tony and try to fix the suit but there’s something nagging at him-- swallowing down the panic still building in his chest and crawling all throughout his lungs as he looks around and sees yet more trash on the sidewalks and what looks like tons of junker cars along the sides of the street, just barely catching what looks like faded  _ Missing _ posters pasted on every building facade.

Speaking of missing, what Peter  _ doesn’t _ miss are the way people look at him as he swings, heads turning and people pointing at him in a way that’s so dissimilar to how people usually acknowledge him while he’s swinging through the city. But Peter doesn’t care about that, his sole focus on getting to May-- an old, childlike fear beginning to take hold as he swings as hard as he can. 

“Kare-- I mean, suit. Call May,” Peter says, his voice shaky and his panic growing when he realizes that not only is Karen offline but so are all her other functions-- swinging faster as he propels himself forward.

It hits him, right when he sees their apartment building-- what’s different about New York, something that he hadn't noticed until he lands right outside their apartment. 

It’s…  _ quiet _ , quiet in a way that’s so unlike his home normally. Peter can still see and hear people all around but it’s like the sound has dialed down to three-- Peter having no idea why as he tries to open the window of his apartment only for it to be locked.

“May? May, are you there?” Peter asks, peering in through the window as he cups a hand over it.

The panic that he’s not so successfully staved off now feels like it has a vise grip on his neck, swallowing down bile when he looks into the apartment and sees nothing at all.

The apartment is  _ empty _ , like someone had moved and moved in a hurry-- Peter half tempted to break open the window and search it but having a guess from the layer of dust on the other side that it hasn’t been occupied in months, if not years.

_ What’s going on? _ Peter thinks to himself, taking a breath to try and steady himself but finding that he can’t-- crawling up the length of the apartment building and getting to the roof.

There was something going on,  _ something _ happened-- to the city, to  _ May _ \-- Peter inhaling sharply as he tries to make sense of what the hell he’s seeing in front of him, the destruction.

_ Tony. Tony will know what’s going on _ , Peter thinks to himself-- sending a web out and softly landing in the alleyway beside the apartment-- looking for the spare backpack that he has hidden there that should have a spare StarkPhone with a direct emergency line to his mentor. 

Only to hear a sound that’s so familiar that it immediately calms him, a pulsar whine flying overheard followed by the sound of wings as he turns and sees none other than Tony, Sam and Steve-- the Iron Man suit hovering in the alley as Falcon does the same at his side and Captain America walks up into the alley, standing resolute just inside. 

“Oh man, I’m so glad to see you guys,” Peter says, only to frown when Tony doesn’t put his hands down-- pulsars still aimed towards him as Sam and Steve stare at him.

“Can’t say the same,” Steve says, his voice hard as Peter involuntarily takes a step back. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t even know how he’s here to begin with, nevermind in that suit,” Sam says, Peter’s brow scrunching when he sees a pair of what look like police cuffs in the man’s hands, his eyes dancing between the three of them. 

“Okay… this is not exactly the warm welcome I was expecting,” he jokes, laughing nervously. 

The three superheroes don’t respond, just continue their unnervingly dark stares. Peter bites the inside of his cheek from underneath his mask, stepping forward.

“So uh, do you know what happened out there?” he asks, pointing back at the alley opening past Steve but turning his attention to Tony. “Or where May is? Why is everything–”

Peter’s cut off when his danger sense suddenly flares, ducking down and feeling a wind in his hair as something careens over his head from right to left, missing his skull by millimeters. There’s a  _ thunk  _ sound, Peter’s head whipping to the side. His eyes go wide when he sees Cap’s shield embedded in the brick wall of the dilapidated building next door to his apartment.

“Whoa! What was that for?” Peter asks but still there’s no reply. He holds up his arms placatingly, looking at each of the three men in turn. “It’s me, y’know, Peter Parker? You  _ know _ me!”

“No, we just  _ thought  _ we knew you,” Sam growls back. “That’s the problem.”

Before Peter can reply he swoops down, the cuffs he’d dangled earlier still in hand. Without thinking Peter jumps up and out of the way, quickly scaling the wall and scrambling up toward the roof. Just as he goes over the ledge he feels something hot hit the back of his shin, crying out in pain. He looks over at his leg to see one of Tony’s beams had managed to graze him, his suit torn and the flesh below singed and bleeding. 

Even in training, Tony had  _ never  _ turned a repulsor beam on Peter, always wary of aiming a deadly weapon at him no matter how many times Peter had argued it’d be good practice. He couldn’t imagine Tony ever being comfortable enough to do so now, when Peter had no warning. 

Yet this Tony had clearly meant to harm him.

That knowledge seals in Peter’s mind what he had already begun to suspect from the moment the three men cornered him: this isn’t the Tony he knows. Same with Steve, and Sam. 

Of course, it’s possible they were somehow being mind-controlled. But considering the damaged state of the entire city, not to mention whatever had happened to Peter before he blacked out and woke up here… mind control didn’t seem likely. 

Which only left one other possibility Peter can think of, however crazy it sounds.

Before he can truly process that thought Tony and Sam appear over the ledge, flying toward him. Peter darts out of the way, dodging another beam using a fancy somersault move Nat had taught him a few months back. 

“Guess it’s time to go,” he says to himself, leaping over the edge of the roof again and starting to swing away. Over his shoulder he cries out, “Can’t beat you guys, but somehow I don’t think you’ll let me join you either!”

He closes his eyes then, letting his danger sense guide him as he rises and swoops down the street, Iron Man and Falcon in hot pursuit. Distantly he can hear the sound of Steve leaping from rooftop to rooftop, slightly behind but more or less keeping pace with the chase as Peter has to keep making quick turns, zig-zagging his way through the borough. His lone advantage—that this is his turf, a neighborhood that even rundown he still knows like the back of his hand—seems to be aiding him just enough to keep one step ahead of the others. 

The barrage of repulsor beams is never ending however, Peter flinching at how close some of the blasts come to nailing him in the head even as he tries to stay focused and calm. 

A left, two blocks down, a quick right, over three blocks then back left again, and Peter sees his opening—letting himself freefall into another narrow alley, but this time landing in a packed dumpster he knew would be there, quickly burrowing in. He keeps his breaths as quiet as he can, grimacing when a sudden wave of nausea comes over him, his stomach roiling both from the throbbing pain in his leg and the putrid stink of his current hide-out. He wants nothing more than to gag but he forces the desire down, hearing the sound of Iron Man flying overhead. It’s followed quickly by Falcon’s mechanical wings right behind him, before the two fade out again. 

With a sigh of relief Peter lets himself relax a bit, taking a deeper if shakier breath through his mouth, silently rubbing his stomach as he tries to calm himself once more. He has no idea what he’s going to do or where he’s going to go now, but at least he managed to not get captured by–

Suddenly an arm shoots through down into the trash heap, a steel grip grabbing Peter by the scruff of his neck. He yelps as he’s bodily yanked out of the dumpster and pressed down hard on his back into the cracked alley pavement, staring up at Steve leaning over him. On the other side of the soldier’s rough grip, the cold metal of the shield digs into Peter’s Adams apple.

“Don’t move,” Steve orders as he stares back at the teen, voice low and threatening in a way the Captain had never directed at him before. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

Peter wriggles anyway, trying to get out from under him. In response Steve squeezes his fingers all the harder, and Peter tenses when he feels something in his neck twist uncomfortably, the resulting small  _ pop  _ of his spine a clear warning.

Steve really would kill him before he’d let him go, Peter realizes, going limp in defeat at the thought. But even as his body stills his mind continues to whirl with questions, mainly— _ why? _ Why were they treating him like this?

“You got him, Cap?” Peter hears Tony ask through Steve’s comm.

“Yeah,” Steve replies grimly, and only a few moments later Peter hears the sound of Iron Man and Falcon returning. He watches as they land in the alley, Tony’s face plate lifting up. The man’s expression is nearly inscrutable when he catches his eye, yet Peter feels something pass between them as he stares at his mentor from behind his mask. Maybe Tony really is on his side?

But then Tony scowls, the man’s jaw clenching as he looks on at Peter with clear disdain. The last of Peter’s hopes are dashed when he sees his mentor turn his gaze away, watching instead as Sam walks over and kneels down on the other side of Peter from Cap.

“Sit up, and put your hands behind your back,” Sam orders, sounding no less intimidating than Steve had just a minute before. Peter readily obeys, Steve keeping his hand and the shield in place but allowing Peter to lift his torso from the ground. Slowly he moves his arms until his hands are clasped at the small of his back.

“Hey!” he says instinctively when he feels Sam start to remove his web-shooters, replacing them with the cuffs. Peter can’t help but give an experimental tug, another shot of panic punching through him when the cuffs don’t give. “What the—what’re these made of?”

“What d’ya think?” Sam sneers, pocketing the web-shooters. “They’re straight from Wakanda.”

“Wakanda? Like in Africa?” Peter asks, bewildered. 

“Where else?” Sam replies snidely, before saying into his comm, “Rhodes, Wilson here. The prisoner’s secure. Just land as close as you can to our location and we’ll bring him to you.”

“P-prisoner?” Peter sputters as the pressure of the shield disappears, Steve and Sam each taking one of his arms and hauling him up onto his feet. Together they start to frog march him toward the mouth of the alley. 

“Look, I don’t know who you guys think I am but I promise—I’m not dangerous! I was just swinging home and talking to  _ you” _ —he nods his head at Tony—”when all of a sudden I felt this weird pull in my gut and then I got all like, shimmery? And then I woke up here, and that’s all I remember! I promise that’s the truth, so can you just–”

“Shut your damn mouth,” Tony interrupts angrily, not even looking at him, “or I’ll duct tape it shut for you.”

“But I’m telling the truth, I swear!” Peter argues as they come to a stop right at the end of the alley, the quinjet coming closer. “Look, I have no idea what’s going on for sure but I think I’m in a different like, universe or whatever, and–”

“‘The multiverse is real’?  _ That’s _ the story you’re going with?” Sam asks, scoffing.

“I’m telling the truth!” Peter repeats, growling slightly with frustration. The quinjet is in sight now, and with his enhanced eyesight Peter can see that it’s Rhodey in the pilot’s seat, guiding the aircraft down toward a smooth landing. 

Even more than not knowing where they plan to take him, the thought of leaving New York City before he’s found May fills Peter with terrified dread. After all, she might not be  _ his _ May, but it’s still  _ May.  _ And if there’s anyone Peter needs to see right now, it’s his aunt. 

He turns pleading eyes back on Tony, who still stubbornly refuses to look at him. “Tony, you gotta believe me, I didn’t–”

“Alright, that’s it,” Tony viciously interjects, a small compartment opening up on the forearm of his suit. He pulls out a small roll of what looks to be the aforementioned tape, going to stand in front of Peter as with his free hand he pulls at the bottom of the Spider-Man mask and yanks up and off of Peter. “I’m not listening to another damn lie about—what the _ hell?” _

“What?” Peter asks as Tony stares at him like he’s seen a ghost. He looks over at Steve next and then Sam, seeing similar expressions of disbelief on their faces. “What is it? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“Holy shit,” Steve exclaims, nobody so much as smirking at the curse word. “It’s—he looks just like Peter, but…”

“He’s a baby-faced rugrat,” Sam finishes.

“I’m not baby-faced,” Peter grumbles, feeling his face turn red. 

“Fine,” Sam allows. “Still a rugrat.”

Peter scowls, and just to prove his point he straightens to his full height, looking hopefully over at his mentor for confirmation that if nothing else, he believes Peter’s telling the truth now.

But instead of understanding Peter sees only wary appraisal in Tony’s eyes. There’s something almost lost in it, a fear lurking in the depths just beyond the obvious shock. It’s a look he hasn’t seen before from his own mentor, and certainly never directed at Peter. Rather than bolster him, it only serves to make Peter more nervous.

“So,” he finally says, plastering on a shaky grin as he looks around at the group, “can I get these cuffs taken off now?”

Sam and Steve look between themselves before glancing at Tony, who is examining Peter’s mask in his hands now, staring down at the fabric even as the quinjet lands not twenty feet behind him in the street. Only once it’s fully set down, and the engines quiet, does Tony lift his gaze to Peter again, his expression having gone back to the unreadable one he’d been sporting just before he’d taken off Peter’s mask. 

“No.”

“No?” Peter repeats, his grin faltering. “Seriously? But you can see from my face that I’m not—whoever you’re after! So why can’t you–”

Tony holds up a hand. “Nuh-uh. This is where you zip it. The adults are the only ones allowed to talk right now.”

“But–”

“Zip. It.”

Peter scoffs. “This is ridiculous—you’re all being absolutely _ ridiculous  _ right now!”

“Here’s the deal,” Tony says firmly, continuing as if Peter had said nothing, fiddling again with the duct tape, “you're not going to fight us or try to run away anymore. We’re going to all calmly get in the jet and then we’re going to go back to the compound.” He stills, looking back up at Peter. “And then you, whoever the hell you are? You’re going to answer every single question we ask you with the truth, no exceptions.”

Peter’s jaw drops. “You mean you  _ still _ don’t believe me? But I’m–”

Tony slaps a piece of the tape right over his mouth before he can finish, Peter narrowing his eyes at him in response. The frown only deepens when Tony pulls his mask back over his head, covering his face once more before stepping back to the side, serious as ever.

“Cap, Wilson—lead the way.”


	3. Chapter 3

“...and that’s when you guys showed up in the alley and started coming after me,” Peter finishes, looking around the room. Tony, Rhodey, Sam and Steve all stare back at him in turn from where they’re either sitting at the conference table or standing against the wall, each one seemingly mulling over Peter’s explanation of everything that had happened to him that day.

So far, things had gone exactly as Tony had said. The trip to the compound on the jet had been silent, with only a quiet conversation between Rhodey and Sam exchanged before they’d taken off from Queens. 

Upon arrival upstate, Peter couldn’t help but notice just how dark the entire place was—only the main building’s windows lit up. In his world the compound was bustling at all hours, and to see it so empty was… unsettling. It made him think back to how quiet New York City had been, wondering if what had happened there had also happened beyond the city limits. 

But he hadn’t pushed, not yet. Instead he’d done as he’d been told, answering every question the four Avengers threw his way. Some of the questions made no sense to him, but Peter had forced himself to tamp down his curiosity and answer truthfully, hopeful that explanations would come his way once he’d given the superheroes all the information they wanted.

Now, over an hour later, it seems the group has finally run out of things to ask, and Peter senses that maybe now— _finally_ —he might get some answers of his own.

“So… what happened here?” Peter asks. When all he gets are raised eyebrows, he adds, “To New York. Why is everything damaged? Where did…”

_Where did everyone go?_

Peter swallows the rest of the question, waiting for an answer.

He’d already known by the peppered hair he’d first seen on the quinjet that this was an older Tony, but the exhausted look that appears on the man’s face only further confirms it. His Tony has never looked so weary, not that Peter’s ever seen.

“That was the work of an alien. A Titan named Thanos, to be specific,” Rhodey finally answers, the other’s jaws clenching at the name. “You’ve really never heard of him where you’re from? How about the Infinity Stones?”

Peter shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not still on its way,” Sam pipes up, speaking more to the adults than to Peter. “It’s 2019 in his world. That’s a full three years before it happened here.”

“Wait…” Peter’s brow furrows. “What year is it?”

“2024,” the four Avengers answer in unison, and it’d be comical if literally everything else about this situation wasn’t so serious. 

“Two years ago, Thanos used the power of the Stones to erase half of all life,” Steve explains, sounding so matter-of-fact about it that Peter gets mental whiplash.

“I’m sorry, but did you say half of all _life?”_

“People, animals, plants, even bacteria—if it was living in any sense of the word, half of it’s gone now,” Tony replies. “And not just on Earth. The entire universe.”

Peter sits shell-shocked, trying to absorb that information. “And you guys couldn’t stop him?”

“Not for lack of trying,” Sam replies rather defensively. “We lost people, _good_ people, and not all of them from turning to dust when that purple asshole snapped his fingers.”

“So, is everyone not here right now… dead?” Peter asks timidly. 

“Everyone?”

“The other Avengers.”

The four adults glance around at each other— _is it safe to tell him this?—_ before simultaneously shrugging.

“Nat and Clint are alive, but where they are, we’re not sure,” Steve says. “Clint went incommunicado after his whole family was snapped, and Nat’s somewhere out there now trying to find him. As for Thor and Bruce, we haven’t seen either of them since 2015. No telling if they’re alive or not. Everyone else you might know—Bucky, Wanda, T’Challa, Vision, Strange, most of the Guardians… they’re all dead from either the fight against Thanos or the Snap.”

Peter doesn’t recognize half of that list, but supposes it doesn’t really matter if they’re gone anyway.

“So, it’s just you guys left,” he says dumbly. “The last of the Avengers.”

Nobody says anything to that. After a long minute the silence is interrupted by a phone ringing, Rhodey pulling a cell out of his pocket. 

“It’s Ross,” he says to the others, before he quickly leaves the room.

Peter takes a deep breath, taking Rhodey’s departure as permission to move on to the next topic. “So… am I dead too? In this universe, I mean.”

Tony glances up sharply. “What? No.”

Peter nods, biting the inside of his cheek, trying to still his quaking nerves. “Okay… but then where am I?” Holding up his cuffed hands, he adds, “And why are you all treating me like I’m some sort of–of criminal?”

Sam, Steve, and Tony all exchange glances, clearly holding another silent conversation. Finally Tony nods, and Peter watches as the pair exits the conference room, leaving just him and Tony.

With a sigh, Tony leans back up from the wall he’s been standing against since they arrived. He walks over to the table, pulling a chair out and moving it right next to Peter. Smoothly he twists it around and sits down, arms crossed over the top of the back. He fixes Peter with a hard stare, unflinching. 

“You asked why we’re treating you like a criminal,” Tony repeats, “and the answer is that you are a criminal in this universe. And not just any common thief. A murderer.”

Peter barks out a laugh, lip turning up. “Yeah, right.” When Tony’s expression doesn’t change he feels the smile fall, adding incredulously, “No way, no _way_ would I ever–”

“Oh, there’s a way, kid. Believe me,” Tony interjects. “The other you, _my_ you? He bought himself a one-way ticket to the Raft. Been there for months.”

“The Raft?”

“High-tech floating prison for enhanced persons who are declared dangerous,” Tony explains succinctly. “And committing an act of domestic terrorism most certainly falls under the definition of that word.”

_Domestic terrorism?!_

“No way,” Peter repeats with a croak. He looks down at his hands, feeling numb. “It’s a mistake. It has to be.”

Tony huffs out a humorless guffaw, and Peter lifts his head, wary but curious.

“Funny,” Tony says, deadly serious, “that’s what he said, too.”

Peter shakes his head. “But… why? Why would I— _he_ —do that?”

“Peter Parker wanted revenge against the man who killed his girlfriend,” Tony says, "and he got it. The asshole is definitely dead. But so are 249 innocent men, women and children. The bombing even killed one of his best friends, not that he seems to give a shit about that, before or now.”

Peter suddenly can’t breathe, feeling his entire body give a shudder as if outright refusing to accept what Tony’s telling him. “I wouldn’t… I would _never_ do something like that.”

“There’s a lot of things people think they would never do, until they’re pushed to the edge,” Tony replies in a tone that speaks of personal experience. “I’ll give this much to Parker—he hasn’t had it easy, not for a long time anyway. Losing his girlfriend was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. Not that that’s any kind of excuse for killing a building full of people, but I suppose it at least explains some of what led up to it.”

Peter mulls that over, looking back down at his lap. He can’t imagine how he’d react if MJ were murdered, and she’d only been his girlfriend for one day. Up until this very moment he’d been certain he’d never kill anyone, though. But now, with what Tony’s telling him… maybe there’s a darkness in him that’s just waiting to be ignited. 

Maybe he’s not as good of a person as he wants to believe.

“How’s your leg holding up, kid?”

Peter looks up, confused for a moment before it dawns on him what Tony means. He looks down at the bloody appendage. “Oh, uh, it’s fine. Hurts still, but it’s already starting to heal.”

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Tony says, and to Peter’s surprise he actually does sound genuinely apologetic. “At the time I thought you were my Peter, and I couldn’t let him get away, not after–”

“I get it,” Peter interjects, not wanting to hear anything else about how much Tony doesn’t trust the other version of him. Sure, it hadn’t been he himself who’d apparently killed all those people, but at the same time, it’s also _kind of_ him. And hearing Tony—even a Tony who isn’t his Tony—go on about how he’d washed his hands of Peter, even if it isn’t technically _him_ Tony’s referring to… it still hurts deeply. 

Once again, more than anything, Peter wants to go home, wants– 

“What about May? Where is she now? The apartment was abandoned.”

At Tony’s grieved look, Peter panics. “Oh god, she’s not—is she–”

“She’s not dead,” Tony is quick to assure, and Peter lets out a relieved breath. “But, it’s not much better. She’s actually–”

The door opens again then, Rhodey striding in followed by Sam and Steve, all of whom look grim. 

“Well, we have good news and bad news,” Rhodey says. “The good news is that Peter didn’t break out, like we first thought when we saw the footage of the kid swinging in the city.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Kind of already figured that one out, honeybear. What’s the bad news?” 

The frown on Rhodey’s face deepens. “There was an ‘unexplained occurrence’ at the Raft tonight, in Peter’s cell. The video is mostly static, but what was shown, it’s almost like he–”

“Did he go all shimmery and disappear?” Peter pipes up, eyes wide. “Oh god—is he in _my_ universe now?”

“No, he’s still right where’s supposed to be,” Rhodey says, rubbing his chin, “but the energy anomaly you described has clear similarities to whatever happened to him. Our best guess is that whoever brought you to our world was attempting to switch you both out. But for some reason, Parker remained.” 

“Which brings us to the next point,” Steve says, giving Tony a wary look. “After speaking with Ross, we think… maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring Peter here.”

“To the compound?” Tony asks incredulously, looking around at the others. “You can’t be serious.”

“If we’re going to get Little Pete back to his universe, then having them both here to keep an eye on and try to figure out the connection makes the most sense,” Sam counters. Inwardly Peter bristles at the new nickname—he’s seventeen, not a _child_ —but forces himself to stay quiet, worried that if he brings attention to himself the Avengers will take the conversation out of the room. He can tell by Tony’s fleeting glances to him that the idea is already on his mind.

“But Morgan’s here,” Tony argues. “I don’t want him anywhere near her ever again, Rhodey. You know that.”

“I don’t much like it either, Tones, but Sam’s right. We need to have him here if we want to figure this out,” Rhodey replies gravely. “And it’s not like we don’t have the capability to safely contain him. Morgan will never even have to know, if you don’t want her to.”

 _Who’s Morgan?_ Peter wonders, but again he stays silent, too invested in the outcome of the discussion.

“Whether or not our Peter knows what’s going on, he has something to do with this, Tony,” Steve says plainly. “We need to find out whatever we can from him one way or another, and for that to happen, he has to be here.”

Tony angrily shakes his head. But when he looks back over at Peter, there’s no vitriol. Just a kind of deep heaviness that once again, Peter has no real familiarity with. It seems to be this Tony’s default emotion, however. 

Tony turns back to the others after a long moment.

“Fine,” he finally responds, sounding defeated. “For the kid’s sake, I’ll agree. But as soon as he’s back home, Parker goes straight back to the Raft.”

“Of course,” Rhodey agrees, the others nodding along. He pulls his phone out and leaves the room again, no doubt about to call this Ross guy back and let him know their decision.

As soon as Rhodey’s gone, Tony turns to Sam while shooting a thumb at Peter. “Hey, would you mind checking over his leg? He said it’s healing but, I’d feel better if you took a look and patched it up. Though, when you head downstairs, perhaps for now it’s best to stay clear of–”

“I got it, Tony,” Sam pointedly though not unkindly interrupts, “and sure, no problem. We’ll head out now.”

Despite his confusion at whatever it is Sam is supposed to keep him away from, Peter can’t help smiling a little at the small concern he hears in Tony’s voice. It feels good to be cared for again. It makes him wonder if this Tony still cares about his Peter too, even if just a tiny bit. After all, if he truly hated him, surely he wouldn’t care about any version of Peter Parker, right?

“Time to hit up the medbay, Little Pete,” Sam announces, striding over to Peter. Motioning to the cuffs, he asks Steve and Tony, “Does he still need these?”

Another silent conversation ensues. Peter is _really_ starting to get tired of those.

“This is very important, Peter,” Steve finally says, drawing his attention again. “If we take your cuffs off, do you promise to listen to us? You swear you won’t try to escape, or attack anyone?”

A half hour ago Peter would have scoffed at such a question, but right now he just feels a pang of remorse. He knows if May were here she’d tell him to stop being a “guilt sponge,” that it’s silly to feel responsible for something he didn’t even do, but he can’t help it. It’s wired into his DNA just as much as his enhancements are.

“I’m not going to run away or—or hurt anybody,” he promises. “I mean, you guys are just trying to help me get home. That’s what I want, too. To go home.” 

At his words, Steve pulls out a set of keys from his pocket and tosses them to Sam, who quickly unlocks the cuffs. Peter rubs at his wrists as he stands up, then—with one final encouraging nod from Tony—follows Sam out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

“Am I really that bad?” Peter asks, his voice a touch softer and a lot more innocent than how he normally speaks-- intentionally leaning into the assumptions the Avengers seem to have of him. 

Sam studies him for a moment as he finishes patching him up, Peter wondering for a beat if he’d really fallen for it or if he was just letting him play the part as Sam carefully replies, “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Doesn’t sound all that complicated,” Peter says with an honest huff as Sam starts to clean himself up, putting away the tools he’d used as Peter continues, “Sounds like I snapped and murdered a bunch of people.”

Sam winces at that, Peter going with his gut as he presses forward, “Had to be kind of shitty if you all believed I did it.”

“ _ You _ didn’t do anything,” Sam says pointedly, extending a hand to help Peter off of the medical bench. Peter takes it, standing up straight as Sam says, “Parker, he--”

Sam cuts himself off, Peter groaning inwardly when Sam shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

“I got time,” Peter deadpans, Sam looking up at him only to let out a small huff of laughter.

“You’re definitely Peter alright. Come on you little shit, let’s get you over to your room.”

“I have a room here?” Peter asks as he follows after Sam who smiles as the double doors slide open-- leading out to the Compound. 

“Of course you do,” Sam says quickly, just the barest hint of something that Peter can’t place. “Even if you didn’t, it’s not like we’re ever running out of space.” 

Sam’s voice is… odd, slightly strained as Peter walks beside him-- trying to think of what he could say to potentially pry more information out of him. The Sam of his world was funny and sarcastic with a kindness that never failed to make Peter feel like he understood what it was like to balance the normal with the abnormal.

This Sam is clearly more guarded, clearing his throat before saying, “Anyway, you won’t be staying in Parker’s room. Come on, it’s this way.”

_ Damn _ , Peter thinks as Sam turns a corner towards the elevator, Peter’s eyes drifting to the hallway that they were walking towards. 

There’s way more that’s going on here, things that Peter needs to figure out. As he and Sam ride the elevator in silence towards the rest of the residence, Peter mulls over the possibilities.

Clearly, the Peter here-- Parker as they called him-- was accused of  _ murder _ , something that Peter can’t bring himself to believe that he did. 

But even as he thinks that, Peter can’t say in confidence that he wouldn’t completely-- not when there was still a bitter, sore spot in his heart of who killed Ben. Not when Peter couldn’t say in complete honesty that he would know what he would do if he ever found him. 

If Parker  _ was _ a murderer then-- well, Peter didn’t know how he felt about this so-called Raft and the fact that he was being held in some facility. Anti-mutant activists were a fringe group in his world, not enough that he had to be scared but it was always a threat-- the Tony and Steve in his world working together to make  _ sure _ that they stayed a vocal minority by working with the government and communities alike. 

From the looks of things, the Tony and Steve of  _ this _ world were just as united-- though in the opposite direction, agreed on how dangerous Parker was and the validity of having him be locked up presumably without even a trial. 

It bothers Peter but he didn’t have enough information-- making the decision as the elevator doors slide open and Sam leads him to what will be his room for however long that he’s staying here-- _ kept _ here-- that he’ll have to play it close to the chest.

For whatever the Avengers here thought of Parker, the assumption that he was just a kid-- “Little Pete” as Sam called him-- was the smartest play, to lean into the innocence and wide-eyed optimism of a kid who got pulled through the dimensions out of his will.

The fact that Peter  _ had _ was besides the point, he thinks as Sam opens the door to his room-- Sam pressing in a code that Peter didn’t quite catch in full. The first digit was a 6 but Sam was quick to hide his hand for the rest-- the doors sliding open as Peter took a tentative step in. 

“Not bad for a holding cell,” Peter tries to joke only for his smile to fall when Sam’s eyes get cloudy-- realizing that it’s a profoundly bad joke to make considering that Parker actually  _ was _ being jailed. 

“Thanks Sam,” Peter says before Sam can say anything more, forcing a smile again as he says, “For stitching me up.”

Sam looks conflicted, nodding once before saying, “No problem, Little Pete.” 

He lets the door close on him, Peter hearing the keypad go outside of it once again-- wishing now that he’d actually taken Ned up on his what-seemed-ridiculous offer at the time to try memorizing key touch tones. 

Thinking of Ned-- of MJ and May and everyone else in his world-- fills Peter with dread, wondering what they could possibly be thinking now that he was gone-- if he actually  _ was _ physically gone or if he was in some kind of coma somewhere. 

Neither of those are particularly comforting to think of, especially when first and foremost-- Peter has to solve the problems that he has right in front of him.

First, that this alternate self was accused of murder and second, that of the people in his life that he would think would fight  _ for _ him were either dead, wherever and whatever was going on with May or were convinced of his guilt. 

Peter sighs, falling down on the bed with his face towards the ceiling-- staring up at it as he thinks. 

_ How you gonna get out of this, Parker? _ Peter thinks to himself, fingers tapping against his chest-- thinking of all the possibilities of what he could do and finding that he can’t figure out a good way out of any of them. 

* * *

Peter’s left in his room for all of two hours, or so his best guess is-- there isn’t a clock or any kind of electronic device so he’s bored out of his mind, when he hears a knock at the door.

“Come in?” Peter asks incredulously, mainly because whether or not anyone could come in or not was entirely out of his responsibility as the keypad is used.

Peter’s not surprised when it’s Steve who comes in-- bearing a tray in hand and still standing outside the door until Peter nods for him to come in. 

“Figured you’d need some food, if your metabolism is anything like mine,” Steve says, walking forward and resting the plate on the desk that Peter’s thoroughly searched. 

As if on cue, his stomach starts to growl-- Peter sheepishly smiling as Steve smirks, taking a step back as Peter goes to grab the tray.

The food looks good, though it’s noticeably different than the array of options that the Compound back in his world has. Peter wonders how much of that has to do with the late hour or with half of the universe being dead-- just one of the many things that Peter is desperate to know more about and yet recognizes that he’s not gonna be getting any answers about anytime soon.

_ Besides _ , Peter thinks,  _ gotta save my questions for the things I’ll actually get answers for _ . 

Peter takes the tray over to the bed, Steve standing almost awkwardly in the room as Peter dives in-- too hungry to wait as he shovels in a sporkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

It isn’t lost on him that the utensils they gave him were plastic either. 

“Sorry,” Steve finally says after Peter’s made some headway into the food, Peter looking up at him and seeing a grimace on his face as he moves the desk chair to sit down. “I know your stomach must’ve been eating you out from the inside. We just,” Steve clicks his tongue, an action that reminds him of  _ his _ Steve, “had some other things we had to take care of.”

“For the other guy?” Peter says, further delineating himself from the other Peter in an act that he hopes will endear some trust with this Steve.

It works, Steve grimacing as he nods before shaking his head. “Nothing you have to worry about.”

Peter lightly taps his spork against the tray, hedging his bets once again and not totally faking it when he asks, “I am worried about something. Or, someone.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise, Peter setting aside the tray for a moment before wringing his hands together.

“May,” Peter says, watching as recognition floods Steve’s face. “I uh, Tony said that she was-- that she’s--”

Peter cuts himself off, letting out a little huff that is almost as desperate as he feels. “He said that she was alive but--”

“No harm would ever come to your aunt, Peter,” Steve says definitively, Peter looking up to him and seeing a fierce expression on his face. “No matter what happens, your aunt will always be taken care of.”

Peter frowns, furrowing his eyebrows as he asks, “But that’s just it. Why-- why does she need to be taken care of? What’s wrong with her?”

Peter watches as Steve’s firmness turns into sorrow, a gentle expression on his face that Peter’s only seen  _ his _ Steve have in the moments when they’re debriefing after having lost someone, bracing himself as he says, “Is the May of your world not sick?”

Peter blinks a few times, shaking his head quickly as he says, “No?”

Something shifts in Steve’s expression, Peter’s memory bringing up the biopsy that May had had a few years ago-- a few months before Ben died and when  _ Peter _ was the one who was the source of most of their medical problems. 

Ben and May had both been worried, no matter how much they tried and failed to hide it from Peter. But the test results had come back as benign, a simple removal that despite any of Ben’s constant fretting-- hadn’t amounted to anything more than an extended weekend off of work.

Neither of them had realized that it was Ben that they should’ve been concerned about.

“There may be more differences than we accounted for,” Steve says, mostly to himself as Peter brings his attention back to the present-- more curious than ever now not just about May but about this world and just how  _ much _ it changed from his own. 

If May was sick in this world, something she’d briefly had the possibility of being only for it to shift-- it stood to reason that there was more nudged around that Peter could figure out. 

“Where is she? Is she okay? You said she’s being taken care of but her apartment was empty,” Peter says, Steve nodding as he smiles-- even if Peter can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“You actually came close tonight. She’s in the medbay, getting the best treatment that we could possibly give her,” Steve replies, Peter holding back the impulse to ask to go and see her. 

She wasn’t his May but she was still  _ May _ \-- Peter’s fingers twitching as he wrings them together, something that Steve seems to notice as he folds his own hands together over his hands. 

“I know you’ll want to see her but it’s-- it’s a little complicated now. You understand,” Steve says, Peter mulling over his options as he nods.

“Is it so complicated that I’ll never be able to leave this room at all? Should I expect door delivery around meal times?”

Steve looks conflicted then, pressing his lips together in another tell that Peter knows well. It’s a sign that Peter knows from his own Steve that there’s something he disagrees with, some kind of argument that Steve had decidedly lost-- something that Peter  _ also _ knows means that it’s something that he can push on. 

Not yet, Peter’s not gonna push his luck just yet, but it’s a good sign-- having his instinct confirmed when Steve says, “I can’t make that call but just-- sit tight.” 

“Can’t really do anything else,” Peter says jokingly, gesturing to the open and relatively empty room.

Steve laughs at that, Peter smiling at the win as Steve nods towards the books on the shelf that Peter had meticulously uncovered before placing each book back where it belonged. 

“You’re telling me you’ve read through all of those already?”

“I’m saying that I’d rather  _ not _ read  _ War and Peace _ if it’s not for a grade,” Peter deadpans, Steve chuckling to himself before moving to stand.

“Well, we’ll see if there’s anything else we can bring in to you. Forgot teenagers aren’t interested in classic literature.”

“Not  _ this _ teenager,” Peter says, trying very hard to not think of his MJ and of the knowledge that Parker’s MJ was dead. 

He has no way of knowing if that’s even the case, not if the diverging paths of the May’s of these two worlds were any indication. Peter doesn’t want to dwell on it anymore than he has to as Steve laughs goodnaturedly.

“Point taken,” Steve says before moving to the door, nodding towards the tray of food. “I’ll come by tomorrow morning. Let me know if that’s not enough for you.”

“Will do, Cap,” Peter says, saluting him cheerfully as Steve just laughs again-- the doors sliding closed behind him.

As soon as they do, Peter hears the keypad go off once again-- fingers lightly tapping against the bedcover. 

They still didn’t trust him, that much was clear-- restricting him to this room and locking the door behind him.

Only for Peter to remember how Tony had looked when he’d described Parker and bringing someone called Morgan around, the thought occurring to him that maybe it wasn’t Peter that they didn’t trust.

Maybe whatever Parker had done-- however he’d killed those people-- meant that they were trying to protect Peter from _him_. 

* * *

Peter stares up at the ceiling, one hand under his head and another resting across his midsection— fingers lightly tapping as he thinks.

It’s mid-morning the next day. Steve, true to his word had come by early-- a little too early in Peter’s mind-- for some breakfast. A mountain of eggs, hashbrowns and even some turkey sausage-- surprising to Peter that Steve was quick to point it out. 

Peter didn’t keep kosher but it ticked another box for him, that the Peter of this world-- that this world in general-- was different from his own. 

Now, a few hours later and his stomach was once again grumbling, alongside the unused adrenaline flowing through his system. 

Despite how he’d joked with Steve, he  _ did _ look through the books-- rifling through them only to be bored because half of them had been on the summer reading list that Midtown gave and the other half being books that MJ herself had recommended for him to check out. 

The reminder of her just reminded him of May, reminded him of the people who were no doubt missing him back at home-- and worse, Peter thought, having no way of checking how his people in  _ this _ world were doing. 

He understood their unspoken logic, correctly guessing that Peter was just young enough and just impulsive enough to reach out to the people that he knew to see what the hell was going on. But it was more than that, a burning curiosity to understand just what Parker had gotten up to and why everyone was so quick to believe that he’d murdered all those people.

Peter ran through it in circles, just as he ran through various plans in his head-- the question of how long he would end up staying in this world  _ also _ being something that he struggled with. 

He had to get out of this room, get his hands on a computer or a tablet-- maybe get the chance to see May if he’s lucky.

Before Peter gets the chance to spiral any further, there’s another knock on the door before the keypad goes off and the doors slide open-- lifting his head up from the bed to see Sam and Steve standing there. 

“What’d I do now?” Peter asks, sitting up as Steve smirks. 

“Nothing, kid. That’s--” he glances at Sam who looks tense, “that’s kind of the point.”

“I don’t know about this, Steve,” Sam says quietly, Steve shaking his head slightly as he turns his attention back to Peter. 

“If he has a problem with it, I’ll deal with him,” Steve says, Peter getting the distinct impression that the “he” in this scenario wasn’t himself but rather Tony.

Sam laughs at that before Peter just raises an eyebrow as he says, “Come on. I could hear your stomach from down the hallway.”

“You  _ could _ ? Wait, where are we going?” Peter asks, leaping off of the bed before pausing-- making a quick decision to put his hands in front of him as if offering for him to be cuffed.

His gambit works, not missing the way both Sam and Steve’s eyes fall as Peter says, “You probably want to cuff me, right?”

Steve goes to open his mouth before Sam says, “No, we’re-- we’re not doing that.”

Peter inwardly takes the win, forcing his features to remain neutral as Sam says, “Let’s go, Little Pete. We’ll get some food in you. From  _ me _ , this time. Not the bland shit Steve eats.”

“I thought you liked my cooking, Wilson,” Steve says as Peter walks forward, Peter smiling as the two flank him on either side. 

“I said that to be nice. How does a man keep a lasagna in the oven for three hours and  _ still _ have it come out half-frozen?”

As the two of them playfully banter back and forth, Peter smiles and nods-- eyes roving the Compound for any kind of familiarity and keeping a mental map of what it looks like in his head. 

It’s different than the one back at home, but not by much-- wishing he had access to FRIDAY or Karen or if he was really honest Ned, missing his guy in the chair and the enthusiasm he would have about the kind of shit show Peter’s found himself in. 

“You must be hungry if you’re quiet,” Sam says, throwing Peter out of his thoughts as he inwardly kicks himself for not playing more into what’s going on. 

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Peter says with a smile as they lead him towards the common room, the hallway opening up towards a room that looks almost like a college living space-- a kitchen on the right hand side and couches in the middle. Peter looks around in slight awe, hearing Steve and Sam’s chuckle as he asks, “Wait, what is this?”

“You don’t have couches where you’re from?” Steve asks as Sam moves to the kitchen and starts pulling out some standard breakfast fare from the cabinets and fridge.

“Couches? Yeah but uh, this place is a little different than you know, where I’m from,” Peter says with a shrug and a smile, Steve returning the latter. 

Only for Peter to go still when he hears a familiar voice coming down the hallway, noticing the way Steve freezes too as doors from the other ends whoosh open-- Tony walking in. 

The others freeze then too, Sam holding a loaf of bread before turning to Steve and saying, “This is your problem.”

“What is he doing out of his room?” Tony asks, Peter taking a step back from the vehemence of Tony’s tone but mostly out of surprise-- not having to fake the hurt he feels in the slightest that Tony is still so completely against him being here.

“Tony…”

“We agreed on this, Rogers. Keep him in his room, keep him safe. I don’t want--”

“Dad?”

The men in the room freeze as Peter’s mind starts to race-- only for his mouth to drop when a girl comes up from the hallway, eyeing Peter up and down as if  _ he _ was the one who needed an explanation. “Who is this?”

“Morgan, what are you doing here?” Tony asks, Peter realizing that this is the Morgan from before, “I thought you were with mom.”

_ Mom? _ Peter thinks but doesn’t say, only for the pieces to fall into place. From the protective way Tony responds to her presence, to the look in her eyes, the color of them and her facial features making Peter want to ask even more questions.

_ Tony has a kid? _

Morgan shrugs, looking completely unbothered by Tony’s worry as she stares at Peter and says, “She had to take a call. Who is this? Why does he look like Peter?”

Peter startles at that, pointing to his chest before saying, “Wait you-- you know me?”

Tony and Steve both look to him as Sam snickers from the kitchen, Morgan raising an eyebrow as she says, “Duh.”

“Morgan, you know you’re not supposed to wander around this floor by yourself,” Tony says authoritatively but still with a gentleness that surprises Peter. From the way he’s interacted with him, Peter had just guessed that it wasn’t in this Tony-- that maybe something had happened that made him standoffish, that maybe Parker had reached out and that the Tony of this world was just profoundly uninterested in him.

The reality that it’s still clearly something Tony is capable of but isn’t giving to him, isn’t lost on Peter. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Morgan says back, Peter holding back a laugh at how much she sounds like Tony-- any question of whether this was truly his daughter any more than she was Pepper Potts’ being thrown out the window when Morgan levels him with a look that reminds him so much of his own world’s Pepper. 

“Your question is complicated and something that you,” Tony says, turning her head away from Peter and back towards the hallway, “don’t need to worry about.” 

“Come on, Tony,” Steve pleads, Tony flashing a look at Steve, “it can’t hurt. He’s not the same.”

“It absolutely can hurt, and what I do or don’t want my daughter to do is none of your concern, Rogers,” Tony says definitively, only for Morgan to snort and wrestle herself from his grasp.

“You’re my dad, not my boss,” Morgan says in a tone that’s so painfully Pepper that it makes Peter laugh, sobering up when she directs her question directly to him, “Who are you? Why do you look like Peter?”

“I  _ am _ Peter,” Peter says, avoiding Tony’s gaze as he directs his attention squarely on Morgan. “Just not-- not  _ your _ Peter.”

The room goes silent, save for Sam still quietly working in the kitchen, popping bread slices into a large toaster. Peter can guess it would be a lot for anyone to handle but if Peter has the right guess that whatever this world has been through, the daughter of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts in this universe can take nearly anything in stride. Morgan squints at him, eyeing him and down before nodding, “I can tell. You don’t have the scar.”

“The… wait,” Peter turns to Steve and Tony, “I have a  _ scar _ ? What--”

“Well that’s enough interdimensional bonding for me,” Tony says, wrapping his arm around Morgan before pointedly looking at Steve. “Come on, Mo. Let’s go find mom and say goodbye before I head out.” As they walk out he glances back over his shoulder at Peter, gaze softening slightly. “See you in a few days, kid.”

“See you...” Peter lets the words trail off with no small amount of confusion, watching as Tony and Morgan disappear back into the hallway, a long moment of silence following their departure.

“Well, that went about like I expected it would,” Sam finally says, lifting a teasing eyebrow at Steve before focusing back on the food.

Steve rubs his chin, looking weary despite the fact it’s not even noon. “I had kind of been banking on him already being gone, if I’m honest.”

“Where is he going?” Peter asks, looking between the two.

“Tony and Rhodey are heading to the Raft,” Steve explains, sitting down at the counter with a sigh and starting to butter the stack of toast Sam had made. “Ross wouldn’t allow Peter to be brought here until every security measure possible was agreed to, including a few of us as extra transfer detail. And since Sam and I aren’t exactly on Ross’ good side, it wasn’t a hard decision who was going. Not that we care to see him, either.”

Peter’s brow furrows, yet he doesn’t ask why the animosity—sensing that despite Steve’s casual tone, the story there was anything but. Instead he says, “Tony doesn’t have any kids in my universe.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam says, not looking up from where he’s just put some bacon in a pan. “Well, you’re missing out then. Parker was like a big brother to Mo. Even when he was on the outs with Tony, he still made time to see her.”

“He did?”

“Yep. The two of them were thick as thieves, and just as much trouble as ten of them,” Sam says, lips turning slightly up before he catches Peter staring at him and schools his expression. “He may be a killer, but there’s no denying that Parker adored the shit out of Morgan Stark.” The frown deepens. “Or at least…”

Sam trails off, looking suddenly grim. Before Peter can even think of a response however, Sam schools his expression once more, holding up a spatula and pointing it at him. “So, we established they have couches where you’re from. Do they also have eggs?”

Peter laughs, and the tension in the room snaps like a twig. He walks around past Steve to stand by Sam at the extra-large stove. “Yeah, we do. I even know how to cook them, believe it or not.”

“That was my next question,” Sam says appreciatively, handing over the utensil before going back to his bacon. “There’s a full carton in the fridge. Time to earn your keep, Little Pete.”

* * *

The next few days pass by mostly pleasantly. Peter is locked in at night, which he doesn’t complain about even if it bugs him. He’s getting better at seeing the code they’re inputting, their hands not nearly as guarded in covering the keypad the longer he’s with him.

During the day he spends all his time outside of his bedroom with Steve and Sam, either in the common area just hanging out or in the training gym, releasing pent-up energy. As with the jokes about couches and eggs, a lot of their conversation centers around comparing their respective worlds, although Peter quickly picks up that neither man ever lets the topic veer toward the past or anything too personal, almost as if they’re worried about letting Peter know too much.

Morgan doesn’t make another appearance either, which Peter can’t help but feel is related.

But all the secrecy just makes Peter even more curious, wishing more than anything that he could see May and get more answers but also not wanting to use up a favor he may need from the two Avengers later by pushing to meet her. Yet that still doesn’t stop him from wondering all the time what happened to this world’s MJ and Ned. The curiosity isn’t quite enough for him to ask directly though, Peter telling himself that it’s unlikely Sam or Steve would have answers anyway. 

...And if it’s actually because he’s pretty certain they’re both dead in this universe but would rather not have the assumption confirmed, well, nobody has to know that.

When he’s not thinking about May, Ned or MJ—whether this world’s or his own—he finds himself thinking about Parker, waffling between looking forward to his arrival and feeling apprehensive about it.

He’s just finished having lunch with Sam and Steve on the second day after Tony and Rhodey had left when they hear a quinjet approaching from the east. 

The three of them all stand up at once and start heading toward the door when Steve suddenly turns around, halting Peter in his tracks. “I’m sorry Peter, but you need to stay here.”

“But–”

“No buts. Tony will kill me if I let you go outside right now.”

“I’m with Steve on this one, Little Pete,” Sam pipes up from over the other’s shoulder, looking apologetic but firm. “It’s for the best.”

Peter wants to protest, but as he’s done countless times the last few days, he instead bites his tongue and doesn’t push—knowing the big bay of east-facing windows would give him a good view anyway. “Okay, if you say so.”

With twin nods the two Avengers turn back toward the door, soon gone with a  _ whoosh.  _ Peter doesn’t wait to race over to the windows, hiding in the shadow of a column in the hopes he won’t be easily noticed if anyone happens to look up.

He watches as the quinjet lands, only for the main hull door to open and several men in military gear to exit. Next comes Tony, wearing his Iron Man armor. His mask covers his face, shielding his expression. But his stance is one of coiled tension when he comes to a halt and twists around, as if waiting for someone else to follow.

That someone is made clear a few moments later, Peter’s eyes growing wide as he watches Rhodey—in full War Machine armor—appear last, pushing an upright rolling gurney from behind, one to which a human is strapped to by large metal bands.

But not just any human. Parker.

He’s wearing what looks like a blue prisoner’s outfit, and soft-soled shoes without laces. Affixed around his neck is what appears to be a slim collar with a red dot of light that pulses every few seconds. Peter isn’t sure what it does, but if he had to guess—going by Parker’s current position which he’s certain they both could easily break out of—it must somehow limit his powers. Peter flinches at the very thought of any tech that could do such a thing, the idea of suddenly being unable to access his own enhancements terrifying in its possible consequences. 

But even that isn’t enough to keep his attention for long, for what really stands out to Peter is the large silver scar that runs across the left side of Parker’s face, from just above his eyebrow—bisecting it—only to glance over his eyelid and slice deep into his cheek, before ending at the corner of his mouth. 

It glints like mercury in the sunlight when Parker glances up without hesitation, right at Peter. As if he’d known he was standing there before he’d even looked.

As they lock eyes Peter’s danger sense flares with an unease that leaves him with the sudden and wild urge to look away. But he forces himself to hold the gaze, keeping his expression as blank as possible even as Parker smirks, managing to look both pleased and menacing in one fell swoop. To see such a devious expression on his own face—albeit an older, scarred version—causes another eerie tingle to run up Peter’s spine. 

Something passes between them then, Peter uncertain where the thoughts are coming from even as he knows with absolute clarity that they are the truth. 

First, that something big and ominous—maybe even sinister—is going on here.

And second, that Parker knows exactly what it is. 

**Author's Note:**

>  _in the voice of Stephen Strange:_ We're in the multiverse now, friends...
> 
> Come hang out with us on tumblr: [seekrest](https://pursue-solitude.tumblr.com/) and [blondsak](https://blondsak.tumblr.com)


End file.
